Fear and Madness
by Trumpeteer34
Summary: When his newest batch of fear toxin is completed, the Scarecrow searches for a test subject. Unfortuantely, Jonathan Crane has company. Part II is up
1. Fear

I do not own Jonathan Crane (aka The Scarecrow) or Jervis Tetch (aka The Mad Hatter). They belong to DC Comics. This was written purely for fun.

* * *

It was surprisingly quiet in Professor Crane's home, considering a certain guest had come over, ranting about how long it had been since they had shared a pot of tea.

Jonathan Crane looked up for a moment from the various chemicals he had scattered across the counter of his workspace and glanced over his thin shoulders at the sofa beyond the doorway. He was mildly surprised when he saw the familiar sandy-colored hair peeking around the back of the sofa. More than that, however, he was a bit irked. Jervis Tetch was showing a remarkable amount of patience today… When the Mad Hatter had arrived three hours ago, Crane instantly tried to shoo him away. The stubbornness between the two was to be admired, considering how unstable they were. After a great deal of failed attempts to rid himself of the tea-loving man, Crane apparently gave in.

'When I'm finished with my work, we'll have tea,' Jonathan had said with a great sigh of defeat.

It was enough to silence Jervis for the time being. The delighted madman then pulled a book from the breast pocket of his overcoat and settled in on the sofa, prepared to wait.

Crane made a face and returned his attention to his work. 'That was three hours ago. Why the Hell is he still here?!' He had made sure he took as long as possible (given his lackluster excitement) in completing his new batch of fear toxin. He had been positive that Jervis would get bored after a few minutes, make a comment or two, and then leave.

But there Jervis was, sitting comfortably on his sofa, enthralled in the many adventures of his beloved Alice.

Easily hiding his displeasure from the Hatter, Crane continued his work. He did enjoy the silence, but the company? Not so much…

His ill feelings lifted for the moment when he held up a half-full test tube. He felt a twisted smirk forming on his face as he studied the contents. His new toxin…nearly complete. He poured the liquid into a canister and twisted a lid onto it. He closely inspected the lid, pushing his reading glasses back up his narrow nose. There were no cracks or holes in the nozzle to the aerosol valve to be seen.

Satisfied with his findings, he removed his reading glasses and placed the canister over an open flame. Once the liquid became vaporized, he'd be ready to test his new toxin.

As he placed the glasses in the front pocket of his lab coat, his eyes and mind began to wander. He brought a thin and long finger to his narrow chin, lost in thought. 'A test subject…' he mused to himself. 'Who am I going to test this on?'

A murmur sounded in the far-off recesses of his mind, making him return to the present. His eyes focused on the wall opposite from him as he concentrated on the lost words echoing only to him.

He shrugged it off and placed his elbow on the edge of the countertop. He rested his chin in the palm of his hand. He blinked dully and returned to his thoughts. 'A test subject…'

The murmur grew into a haunting whisper, its breathy words echoing in his mind. A tingly feeling covered him as his eyes widened slightly. 'Yes…' he thought wickedly to himself.

A sinister grin formed on his face as his head lifted from his hand. His narrowed eyes cut from the wall past the doorway.

_"…Jer-vis…"_

Jervis Tetch was instantly brought back to reality from his Wonderland when he heard Crane say his name. The way he said it unnerved him. He noted the overhanging feeling of darkness in his voice and the hiss at the end of his name. He lifted his eyes from his book, hesitant to look around the sofa at his friend. His curiosity got the better of him, however, for he peeked around the sofa. "Yes, Jonathan?"

The sight unsettled him. True, it was just Crane sitting there, but there was a different air about him…something much more sinister. The way that he was looking at him…the _grin_ on his face…

Jervis's eyes slightly narrowed with suspicion when he only saw one of Crane's hands. His other hand was hidden from sight, behind the large white lab coat.

"Jervis," Crane said again as he slowly slid off of the barstool and to his feet, "how long have we known each other?"

The Mad Hatter cautiously lifted himself from the sofa, the forgotten book falling from his lap to the cushions. "Um…" he began softly, his blue eyes never leaving the man across the room, "…a few years, I'd say… Why?"

The tall, lanky man took a step forward, his head slightly bowed and his arm remaining hidden. "Hmm…yes, I'd say a few years…" he agreed with a single nod. "You've told me so many things over these past few years, and yet…" He took another step forward.

Jervis took a step back, his eyes not once leaving Crane's.

"…and yet," Crane repeated, the grin growing slightly and continuing to move toward the sandy-haired man, "I have never quite figured you out… For a while, I thought monophobia, but dismissed the thought."

'He's talking about fear,' Jervis thought to himself, a feeling of alarm beginning to course through his veins. He wasn't quite certain what monophobia was, but he recognized the last three syllables instantly. For each step the auburn-headed man took toward him, he took one back. He knew he was going to eventually corner himself, but he knew there would be an obstacle or two before that happened. He kept a straight face, allowing his friend to keep talking.

"I mean," the Professor continued, "the way you cling to people…the way you always talk about your beloved Alice Pleasance…" He grinned devilishly when he saw Jervis's brow furrow in sorrow. "Then I began to suspect ataxophobia," he proceeded to say. "Ah, yes…ataxophobia… You can't stand a situation when you are not in control, can you? Can't stand disorder…chaos; you have to control it. If you couldn't do it alone, you manipulated the situation with your technology. Of course," he added with a short laugh and a quick shrug, "this is just a hypothesis. And like any scientist trying to test a hypothesis…"

Jervis's eyebrows began to rise and his eyes widened slightly when Crane revealed the gas canister in his hand. He slowly began to reach down toward the table that stood behind him, where his hat sat.

_"…there have to be experiments," _the Scarecrow hissed.

He was past the doorway now. The sofa was the only thing standing between the two villains. They both stood at the ready, the Scarecrow ready to lunge and the Hatter ready to run.

_"So tell me, Jervis," _the Scarecrow continued in a haunting voice, _"what do you fear?"_

The gangly man dove over the sofa and tackled Jervis to the ground. The two hit the ground with a thud, a forceful gasp escaping from Jervis when Crane's body landed on top of him. A hand flew up at the assailant, gloved fingers wrapping around the Scarecrow's thin wrist. The Hatter managed to keep the canister that held the gas pointed away from his face as he fought to get free. He easily shoved the thin man off of him and dashed to his feet.

Crane's body landed against a nightstand. The lamp that stood on it fell and shattered against the ground, broken glass covering the floor. His grip on his toxin remained firm. He quickly shook the dazed feeling from him, his eyes regaining their focus.

He heard Jervis's rapid footsteps as he started running by. He flung out his leg, ultimately kicking the Hatter's shin. A yelp sounded, followed by the sound of a body hitting the floor. The Scarecrow quickly rose to his feet as Jervis flipped himself over onto his back, pulling his oversized hat back onto his head.

The Mad Hatter let out a painful breath when the scrawny man lunged on him again. He tried to keep the canister away from him with one arm, the other trying to push off his attacker. As Jervis's hand hit Crane's forehead, the assailant successfully brought the toxin toward the Englishman's frightened face.

The Scarecrow's twisted grin grew wider and he began to press the top to release the fear toxin—

His finger froze in place. He felt an odd feeling blanket over him, his body going rigid. A startled look quickly replaced the sinister expression that had been on his face in a flash as he lifted off of Tetch's body and up unsteadily onto his feet, against his will. His wide eyes fell to Jervis.

The Mad Hatter stared up at Crane with cold eyes from beneath the large brim of his hat. He exhaled irritably and began to lift himself to his feet. He readjusted the large hat on his head and casually began to dust himself off, taking his sweet time before addressing the villain under his control.

"I had been hoping," he finally began, shooting Crane an irritated glare, "to use my newly modified circuitry on a certain Bat, but you have provoked me to do otherwise."

All the auburn-haired man could do was stare with widened, shocked eyes. He had absolutely no control over his body, but he was fully aware of the situation. He was able to feel something stuck to his forehead, right where Jervis had hit him. The shocked expression slowly began to give way into alarm as the hatted man began to walk toward him.

Jervis Tetch came to a halt before his puppet, his arms loosely crossed over his chest. There was a mild air of smugness about him as he stood there, simply staring down his friend with narrowed eyes. He held out a hand, palm up.

The Scarecrow watched himself give away his newly formed fear toxin to the man standing before him. A sense of dread and panic coursed through him in full force as a cold sweat covered his brow.

"Perhaps I should find out what _you_ fear, _Scarecrow_," Jervis said, emphasizing the name. He studied the aerosol canister with bored eyes, moving it around in his hand. "I bet you're afraid of not having control of _this_ situation," he said mockingly.

He carelessly tossed the canister aside and folded his arms behind his back. He slowly began to circle his pawn. "I mean…just think of all the things I could do to you right now. I don't need to tell a Professor of Psychology how important the brain is in controlling the body." He came to a stop and faced Crane. "With one thought, I can cease the functioning of the autonomic nervous system, the medulla…anything." He leaned in slightly, his face hardening. "With a single thought, I could very well end your life."

The Mad Hatter took a step back, keeping his arms casually folded behind him. "So tell me," he reiterated, "are you afraid that I have control of this situation? I don't think you know just what I am capable of…and I could certainly make the time to show you. You underestimate me." He gave the Scarecrow a murderous glare, looking more serious than the thin man had ever seen him in all their years knowing each other. The brim of his oversized hat shadowed his eyes slightly, only adding to his dark appearance.

Jervis turned on the heel of his foot and moved toward the couch. "And if there is a lesson to be learned here, it is this," he said as he reached down for his book. He turned back around, his eyes focused on his friend in a death-stare. "Never anger a madman," he snarled.

The air between the two clinically insane men was silent and tense. The Mad Hatter could tell that the Scarecrow had a comment or two to make, but he had no interest in hearing it. Without breaking his stare, the Hatter pocketed his book. He pulled on the lapels of his overcoat and readjusted the brim of his hat.

The Hatter turned toward the doorway to take his leave. "I'll give you a call when you are yourself again," he called calmly over his shoulder. "I'd tip my hat and bid you 'good day'," he said, turning his back to the threshold and facing Crane again, "but considering the circumstances…" He let out a soft giggle as he opened the front door and stepped out. Before he closed it behind him, he popped around the side of the doorway. "And don't think this has gotten you out of having tea with me!" He gave an innocent smile and waved. "Cheerio!"

He disappeared behind the doorway and pulled the door shut. Jonathan Crane stood rigidly for maybe half a minute longer before he suddenly regained control over his body. He collapsed to the ground, clearly shaken. He sat there for a moment, staring down at the ground with wide eyes and trying to comprehend what had just happened. His hand absently lifted to his forehead and he pulled the foreign object off. He stared at the microchip with distant eyes, the piece of technology no bigger than his fingernail.

Jonathan's eyes moved to the doorway as his fingers curled around Jervis's mind control chip. He heard it crunch in his hand, but gave it little thought. 'Good Lord…' he suddenly realized, 'I nearly used him as a test subject…' His eyes shifted to where Tetch had tossed his fear toxin. It lay amongst the broken lamp on the ground. He had gotten so caught up in the moment…he had lost control.

He stared at the canister for a few lingering moments before he looked back toward where Jervis had disappeared to. He couldn't believe what he had almost done. There were plenty of people he could immediately think of whom he knew he could gas without remorse.

Jervis Tetch was not among them.

Jonathan Crane finally shifted his body to where he was sitting with his back against the sofa. He brought his hands to the sides of his head, trying to ignoring the haunting whispers that ate at his mind. His thin fingers passed through his auburn hair and gripped at his temples. He tightly shut his eyes and sat there, curled in a ball against the sofa, burying his head in his arms. He sat in a silence, a silence that he wished with all his heart would be quickly interrupted with a quip in the familiar British accent he had grown so accustomed to.

He was not afraid of Jervis's control over the situation; he feared his own lack of control. He could still hear the Scarecrow's hissing voice, eating him away inside, completely out of his control.

"I'm pathetic…" he whispered out loud to himself. He felt sorely tempted to rush out of his house to catch up with Jervis, but he couldn't even tell if it was his own guilt driving the temptation, or the Scarecrow's thirst to see fear instilled in his eyes.

"I am so pathetic," he growled in self-hate as he curled into a tighter ball.

* * *

I thought this up when I was at work. I have been exploring Jervis's madness, but not Jonathan Crane's. I figured I'd try my hand at it. I hope you enjoyed it. Feedback is always welcome! Thanks for reading!


	2. Madness

I do not own Jonathan Crane (aka The Scarecrow) or Jervis Tetch (aka The Mad Hatter). They belong to DC Comics. This was written purely for fun.

...this epilogue slowly turned into something longer than the original story. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

'You can do this,' he kept telling himself. 'You can do this…'

Lord, how his nerves were shot. Jonathan Crane stood on the doorstep of Jervis Tetch's current house, as he had been for the past ten minutes, simply staring at the threshold with discouraged eyes, wringing his hands together nervously.

He heaved a tired sigh as he turned to leave again. He hadn't taken more than three steps before he came to a stop, frustrated and embarrassed by his own cowardice. 'It's just Jervis, for Christ's sake!' he scolded himself internally. He turned back around, giving the threshold an offended and angry look. He marched to the doorstep with new purpose, but with each step forward, his confidence dissolved. He found himself staring at the door again.

With a disgruntled growl, he ran a hand through his auburn hair. He rubbed the back of his stiff neck with a thin hand. He hadn't slept a wink the night before. Instead, he had remained leaning against the side of the sofa on the ground, amidst the broken lamp. His fragmented mind had gone over what had happened all night, running the events over and over again in a vicious cycle. It wasn't until right around when sunlight began peeking through his tattered curtains that he decided in a flurry of thought that he absolutely needed to see Jervis today.

It took from sunrise to about 9:45 AM to find the motivation and the courage to leave his house. It was about 10:20 AM now.

God, he was tired.

"You can do this," he said to himself in a hushed whisper, trying with little success to convince himself. 'It's just Jervis, so what are you afraid of? No—not afraid. You _are_ fear... What are you so nervous about? It's just Jervis.'

"It's just Jervis," he mumbled under his breath. "Just Jervis…"

His arm finally dropped from the back of his neck to his side as his shoulders fell with another sigh. His eyes drifted to ground as he began reconsidering his actions again. After a silent moment, his brow hardened with determination. He lifted his eyes back to the door and set his jaw. He took a deep breath in through his narrow nose and raised an arm to knock on—

The door began to open, making Crane's breath catch in his throat. He drew his hand back quickly before he was even able to knock. He stared down at Jervis Tetch with wide, startled eyes.

Jervis, dressed in his usual Hatter attire minus his blue overcoat and the oversized top hat, was in mid-sip of his tea when he spotted Jonathan's lanky form standing on his doorstep. His eyes shot wide and he nearly choked on his tea. He swallowed the unusually large amount of the drink and coughed a few times before he looked back up at Crane.

"J-Jonathan, you scared me," he stammered, holding his teacup firmly in two hands. "I wasn't expecting to see you today…" He stood there in the doorway after regaining his composure, studying the tall man. "You look awful," he finally said at length.

Crane's eyes slightly narrowed at the comment. "Yeah, well, you don't look too hot either," he shot back.

Jervis shrugged his shoulders, brushing off the observation. "Restless sleep," he attributed his appearance to. He took a sip of his tea. "Same for you, eh?"

"I didn't sleep," Crane replied with a tired blink. When Jervis cocked an eyebrow, he looked off to his left toward the ground. "I couldn't…"

"What were you doing up all night," Jervis began in an irked tone, "running around the streets of Gotham, scaring any poor soul that crossed your sorry path?"

Jonathan's eyes returned to the blonde man, anger flashing across his face. "No," he growled matter-of-factly, "I stayed home."

"What, one failed experiment depressed you to the point of not continuing your precious testing for the rest of the evening?" Jervis countered in a sharp voice, his narrowed eyes locked on Crane's thin frame.

Crane's hands instantly clenched into tight fists. He loomed dangerously over the Englishman, glaring down at him with infuriated eyes. "You shut your mouth," Jonathan snarled in a low voice, pointing a threatening finger at the blonde's face, "or I'll—"

"How dare you!" Jervis exploded, slapping Crane's hand away. He slammed his cup of tea down on a table out of Jonathan's view and shot him a murderous look. "How dare you have the _audacity _to come to _my_ doorstep and speak to _me_ in such a manner after last night!"

Jonathan immediately backed off at Jervis's outburst, his eyes shooting wide.

"After trying to use your new toxin on _me, _you come here and _threaten me?!"_ Jervis continued in an outrage. What was left of his sanity seemed completely lost at the moment. "You had the _gall_ to see me as a test subject! _Me!_ Am I nothing more than a _guinea pig_ to you, just another faceless victim of your _sick_ experiments?! You _attacked_ me and nearly _**gassed me!"**_ He paused in his ranting to throw his hands violently into the air, making Crane visibly flinch. "And then you have the nerve to—to come _galumphing_ to my home, to what?! To _threaten_ me?! Was _my_ threat last night not enough to convince you what _I_ am capable of?!"

The Mad Hatter's enraged speech came to another pause as he stood in his doorway, shaking and seething. He took heavy breaths through clenched teeth, his face contorted in fury. His normally gentle blue eyes emitted anger and what bordered on hatred.

In a swift movement, he thrust his thumb to his chest. "_I_ am not to be used as one of _your_—" He jabbed his index finger into Crane's chest "—test subjects!"

Jonathan's eyes shifted from Jervis to his chest, then back to Jervis. He swatted away the blonde's finger, as though he were shooing away an insect. "Well, I'm not to be used as yours either," he responded coldly, past the point of worrying about how unstable Jervis's mind was. "You—"

"Well, what do you expect?!" Jervis screeched, withdrawing his hand and raising his shoulders in an overly dramatic shrug, his arms quivering with rage. "I had no choice! I was defending myself from a _**madman!**_"

There, he said it. Jervis violently crossed his arms and harrumphed angrily, his eyes shifting to glare at a pebble on the ground. Jervis Tetch knew good and well that Jonathan Crane absolutely loathed his sanity being questioned. The merest mention of it would send him up the wall in a fury. He waited for Jonathan to begin yelling at him, to attack him again, Hell, even _gas_ him; he expected it.

When he was met with silence, Jervis looked back up at Jonathan.

Jonathan Crane was staring down at the ground by his feet, his head slightly bowed. Beneath the auburn hair that hung in his face, his brow was knitted in a showcase of mixed emotions, making him nearly unreadable. He stood loosely, his arms dangling by his sides. He appeared to be lankier than normal, almost unhealthily skinny. He looked beyond exhausted and extremely distraught. He looked weak, both physically and mentally…

Jervis blinked, his brow softening and his anger finally beginning to disappear. He turned himself to face Crane, keeping his arms crossed but relaxing. He had never seen Jonathan in that state before; he was deeply concerned.

The blonde man tilted his head slightly, staring up at Jonathan. "Why _did_ you come here?" he asked quietly.

"I didn't come here to argue," Jonathan replied softly, his eyes still locked with the ground. His eyes lifted and met with Jervis's. "I came here to talk…about what happened."

A moment was spent in silence, just the two of them staring at each other. Jervis picked up on the small hint of regret in the tall man's voice, making him in turn regret his own abhorred behavior.

The shorter man took a forward step away the open doorway, turning his body to allow Jonathan to walk past. "Then let's be civil about this," he said at length. He held out a hand, motioning for the tall man on his doorstep to enter.

Jonathan Crane slowly stepped by Jervis and into his house. He was met with the undeniable scent of tea and the musty odor of old books. Amidst the normal aromas came a faintly sweet smell, unknown to him. The room they were standing in was dark, the curtains drawn for obvious reasons. At the end of the hall before him came the obnoxious shine of sunlight.

Jervis closed the door behind him and picked up his forgotten cup of tea. "We can talk in the kitchen," he murmured.

The auburn-haired man looked down at the Englishman as he passed by, heading toward the kitchen and into the sunlight. He slowly followed in stride, keeping his eyes low. They both entered the brightly lit kitchen. The sweetened aroma thickened.

Jervis gestured for Jonathan to take a seat at the table standing to their left as he took a sip of his tea. He made a face when the cooled liquid met his lips. "Clean cup, clean cup…" he mumbled to himself as walked toward the oven and placed his cup on the counter.

Crane lowered himself into one of the two chairs sitting at the table. His eyes followed Jervis as he watched him peek into the oven. He brought his hands to his tired eyes, resting his elbows on the table. He sat there in a silence, trying to collect his thoughts and trying to find the words to begin speaking.

He looked up when he felt a finger lightly tap his forearm. Jonathan found himself staring up at Jervis, who gingerly held out a cup of tea for him.

"English Breakfast," Jervis explained simply, a soft smile appearing on his face.

Jonathan carefully took the tea from the Englishman's outstretched hands. "Thanks," he mumbled. A small wave of relief coursed through the lanky man when he saw the blonde man's smile. He took a sip of the warm liquid, thoroughly enjoying it and somewhat surprised his host remembered how he took his tea. He never would have thought he could enjoy the taste of tea so much. Then again, it was brewed by Jervis Tetch.

As Jervis turned his back on the man to move toward the counter, Jonathan placed his cup on the table. He ran a hand over his eyes and down his face and watched the Englishman pour himself a new cup of tea. He allowed his hand to linger over his mouth, his fingers resting on across his jaw line.

The Hatter turned and saw Jonathan sitting there. Lord, he looked exhausted and uneasy. "Hey, relax," Jervis said, leaning against the counter. He offered another smile as he lifted his cup to his face. "It's just me."

'Yes,' Jonathan thought to himself, his eyes growing worried, 'but is it just _me…?_'

Jervis noticed the expression on Crane's face, his own eyes filling with worry. "Jonathan?" he asked uneasily, moving cautiously toward the table. He sat down across from him. "Jonathan, what's wrong? Talk to me."

Jonathan's eyes fell to his tea, watching the steam swirl and curl in the air. He exhaled heavily, his shoulders falling. "Jervis…" he began softly, not finding the will to look at who he was addressing, "about yesterday…" He couldn't find the words to continue.

Jervis continued to stare at him, hands entwined atop the table, waiting patiently and quietly.

"Jervis," Crane began again with more determination. He finally looked the blonde man in the eye, brown locking with blue. In the moment their eyes met, Jonathan's resolve vanished. Lord, he wished he could just blurt out what he had to say and be done with it… He hated showing weakness in front of anyone, even if it was someone he considered to be more than just an acquaintance. Weakness was cowardly; he was showing his own fear, completely contradicting with his whole persona—

'—or the Scarecrow's…' he thought miserably.

Jervis's brow furrowed when his guest looked back down at his tea and slumped slightly. He opened his mouth to make a comment, but decided to opt for silence.

Crane heaved an exhausted sigh and ran a hand through his hair. "…I told you to leave yesterday…" he mumbled, more to himself than to the Hatter.

A scornful eyebrow lifted on the Englishman's face. He tapped his index fingers together, his slightly narrowed eyes never leaving the professor. "You told me to leave yesterday because you didn't want my company," he pointed out, sounding a little miffed, "not because you were going to potentially gas me." He looked off toward the doorway and crossed his legs, twirling his hand in a careless manner. "Unless, of course, that was your intention the entire time—"

"You know I wouldn't do that!" Jonathan interrupted in a hasty manner, leaning forward on the table and anger lacing his words. When he saw Jervis's unconvinced eyes return to him, he shrunk back against the chair. "…not intentionally, anyway…" he added quietly.

As Jonathan ran his hands over his face again, the buzzer went off on the oven, a petite _ding_ filling the tense air. Jervis glanced over his shoulder at the oven before looking back at the man across from him. The blonde sighed lightly and lifted himself from the chair to attend to the oven.

"Look," Jonathan said as he began rubbing his tired eyes, "I wasn't…I wasn't quite… _myself_ yesterday." He paused as his hands fell from his face and he looked at Jervis. "Things got out…out of hand…out of _control_."

His distant eyes watched Tetch pull a cookie sheet from the oven with the aid of a folded towel as to not burn himself. Carefully maneuvering the sheet, he placed it down by the kettle on the stove. "Yes," the Englishman agreed, his attention still on the tray, "things were chaotic yesterday."

As Jervis closely inspected the baked goods, Jonathan folded his hands over the table. "Yes…" he murmured, "and, um…things got out of hand, and…" He drew what was meant to be a calming breath and closed his eyes, "and…_**I**_ lost control…"

The Hatter's eyes immediately lifted from the cookie sheet and shot to Jonathan. He stared at the lanky man with mildly shocked eyes, a subtle look of disbelief on his face. Did he really hear _guilt_ in his guest's voice…? Was he _really_ trying to apologize? He felt a grin slowly begin to spread on his face.

"Jonathan," he began in a curious voice, "are you trying to…?"

"Jervis, you're not making this any easier." Crane opened his eyes to find the shorter man standing at the counter with a bucktoothed grin on his face, growing wider at his comment. The auburn-haired man made a face. "And you smiling like that isn't making this any easier, either. Cut it out."

The blonde shrugged his shoulders merrily, his smile not disappearing, despite the order. "Jonathan, you should know me well enough by now to know that I simply cannot just stop grinning." He turned back around to the counter. "I have to have a reason…"

"Should I insult you, then?" Jonathan immediately asked in a serious tone, his facial features rock hard.

The inquiry took Jervis completely off guard, making him look up again. A fit of hearty laughter erupted from him, making him double over the counter top next to the stove. His mirth showed no mark of madness or insanity; he was sincerely laughing. He stood there, leaning forward onto his elbows, one hand over his forehead, laughing about how completely _serious_ and quickly he made the witty comment. His full-hearted laughter finally began to diminish into soft chuckles before he risked a glance over his shoulder at Crane.

Jonathan's eyes were locked on his host in a mixed expression of exhaustion and mortification. He shook his head slowly from side to side and leaned forward on the table, placing his hands upon his forehead. "I'm not helping at all, am I?"

He shook his head again when Jervis began giggling madly, having to turn himself back around to hide his face from Crane. "No," the laughing Englishman managed to say between fits of giggling, "not really…"

Jervis turned himself to face Jonathan, a hand over his mouth, trying desperately to stifle his laughter. He cleared his throat in an attempt to compose himself. "Please, go on. I'm listening," he said with difficulty, biting on his bottom lip to keep from giggling.

Jonathan looked back at Jervis, his head unmoving. A hand remained against his forehead. "As I was saying…" he said, making sure to include a subtle bite to his words. He finally allowed the other hand to fall to the table, pausing to search for words again. "About yesterday…"

"Jonathan, look," Jervis said, somehow completely serious now, "we all have our off days—"

"No," Crane denied quickly, shaking his head, "it's more than that. It's so much more than that…" He trailed off again, his distant eyes falling to the table.

"…I know…"

He instantly looked back at Jervis when his voice sounded in a quiet whisper. He stared at the man, his mouth slightly agape.

Jervis had turned back around toward the counter, his fingers lightly resting on the edges. He stared down at the stove with thoughtful eyes, almost like he was looking through it. "When I put on my Hatter costume, I know it's just me in different clothing…" The blue orbs turned to meet with the brown ones. "It's not the same for you, is it?"

The look of horror that briefly appeared on Jonathan's face confirmed it. It was like some unholy secret had just been uncovered. Their eyes remained fixed on each other, both knowing that the Englishman had hit the target like a hammer hitting a nail, right on the head. The silence between them wasn't tense; it was just a silence, both of them keeping quiet in subtle reverence.

Crane swallowed the lump in his throat and broke the stare, opting to look down at the tea that had long since stopped steaming. He drummed fidgety fingers over the table.

Jervis took a short breath and continued quietly. "Jonathan," he began, moving across the kitchen to sit down, "I know it must be upsetting, but…it's true, isn't it? You _did_ lose control yesterday…but I haven't seen you lose it before while out of costume." He paused when Crane's eyes returned to him and offered a comforting smile. "You are usually in control of it, Jonathan. I know you are. You are a strong-willed and brilliant man. You wouldn't allow yourself to lose command in day-to-day life. You are not that easy to conquer.

"What happened yesterday was a…an _unexpected_ event. You were lost in your research; I could tell. You weren't pestering me to leave," he said, chuckling, "so you _must_ have been concentrating… I have not met a man as passionate about his work as you are. You were probably just so focused on your work that you didn't even feel the shift of power."

Crane's thoughtful eyes fell to his hands. He was disconcerted by how this insane blonde man understood so well what had happened. "I _was_ focused…" he admitted at length, "I almost kept forgetting you were there." He looked up to see a slightly hurt expression on Jervis's face. He lifted his hands defensively. "You were being uncharacteristically quiet, is what I mean," he explained quickly. His hands fell when the blonde's face relaxed. "I get so caught up in my work, Tetch… I didn't even realize what I had almost done until after you took control of the situation and left."

Jervis grinned again and shifted in his seat, looking ready to stand. "I suppose I know for next time not to bother you while you are working. I'd rather not have last night repeat itself."

"Nor I," Jonathan agreed with a solemn nod.

"Good," Jervis said, his grin widening as he lightly patted his knees. He lifted himself from the chair and moved back to the stovetop. He poured two more cups of tea and placed them on the table, one in front of Jonathan and the other before the empty seat.

Jonathan watched him move back to the counter, relishing the soft quiet. There hung no tension in the air between them; the atmosphere was warm, friendly. His eyes fell to his new cup of tea, watching the steam dance in the cooler air before disappearing. He felt most of the anxiety in him lift, leaving him feeling uncannily content. One thing still nagged at him, however…

"So," he said at length, breaking the silence without looking up, "about last night. I'm sor—"

He was interrupted when Jervis set a plate down in front of him. Sitting on the dishware was what looked like a biscuit, topped with cream and red jam. Jonathan's eyes lifted to Jervis as he sat down across from him, setting down his plate.

"Not to worry, my dear friend," Jervis said, smiling again. "We both behaved like Jabberwocks. What matters is that we acknowledged it." He took a sip of his tea, looking just as merry as can be.

He noticed Jonathan staring at him with a mildly surprised look on his face. He set down his cup and grinned again. "That's strawberry jam on that scone; I hope you don't mind. It's all I have. It is really quite delightful, though."

It was amazing. Jonathan Crane could hardly wrap his mind around it. Last night, they were enemies, each threatening the other's well being. And here they were, less than twenty four hours later, sitting together, eating breakfast and sharing tea as if nothing had happened. It was incredible just how quickly Jervis Tetch could forgive him. He had nearly gassed him with an untested concoction, and the blonde man had just made him breakfast! It was simply mind-boggling.

If he weren't so baffled, he would have smiled.

Jervis was staring out the window at something, happily munching on the freshly baked scone, completely unaware of his friend's thoughts.

Jonathan took a sip of his tea and a bite from the scone. It was really delightful…but still, he felt mildly plagued. He glanced up at the blonde after he swallowed. "Aren't you…afraid that it might happen again?" he risked asking.

The Hatter's eyes shifted to him, his head unmoving. He smiled. "Not at all," he answered truthfully. "The risk will always be there, as it always has been. I'll know how to handle it next time, as you will." With that, he looked back out the window.

Jonathan Crane finally felt all the anxiety lift from his shoulders. He did still feel bad about the whole ordeal, but neither seemed any worse for wear. It was amazing just how strong their friendship was. They had known each other for years, had been together during the best of times and the worst of times, high points and low points. Last night was the ultimate test on their friendship.

And there they sat, just Jervis Tetch and Jonathan Crane. He was sure of it.

* * *

A/N: And there you have it! Thanks for reading!


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